Friday, March 23, 2012

Psycho Analyzing the Missing Father

Growing up with an inadequate, quite psychologically harmful father, I have psychological tendencies to seek out a real father.  I enjoy dating older men, I am always fascinated by and interested in learning from my male professors, enjoy talking with those men older and wiser, and being educated with their knowledge and experience.  When I come around older men whom I admire, I can act quite child like-changing my voice tone to a kid and asking questions like a child would do.  I admire the relationship between father and son and father and daughter, especially amongst the current home stays in India. 
Not having a supportive, loving father figure growing up, this insecure attachment is played out in my twenties.  I just want to be loved by a male because I never truly received that as a child.  My father said he loved us, but had maladaptive demonstration of affection.  He would scream and yell at me calling me an idiot and a worthless nothing.  This resulted in me excessively using my defense mechanisms with others.  Constructive criticism is hard to accept and nothing I ever do feels like it is good enough.  Overtime, it has improved, but this psychological abuse lies in my unconscious leaving to respond unexpectedly and reactively with defense.  Having awareness and insight into this problem helps me work on it daily, but I am still left with a scarred ego.  

With the older males, I seek them out to give me the words of advice and confidence I need or we all need as children growing up.  I hold onto their caring words of advisement and self improvement.  Although, they are not a genetic link to me-they can be role models and hopeful figures to inspire me.    I remember my special relationship with the Baskan in Istanbul.  He was someone, like a father, and someone I want to be a part of my life.  We had such a nice relationship and his company was precious.  On one of our last nights together, he told me that no matter what I do, he will always be there for me.  I broke down crying and went back to tell my love about this important moment and he had disregards towards it’s importance.
I love that man-not the Turkish man, but I love the Baskan.  He is such a meaningful part of my experience in Istanbul and I need to get back in touch with him.  I am planning to see him again in Istanbul as I told him I would be coming back and he told me that he knows I will be back, which is true.  Men like him make up for the father I never had and remind me that I can find real father figures within the world.  It is a big world, but smaller than we know. 

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